Promises We Made
by Penelope Jadewing
Summary: Sequel to A Night of Indiscretion. Everything is about to change. It looms like a dark wave, peaking at the door of the Nightray house. But Elliot Nightray doesn't know that. And today, he's going to make promises. Good promises. Promises that he has every intention of keeping. Elliot x OC ONESHOT. Light censored swearing on Elliot's part. Mild suggestive references.


**A/N: Sorry if anyone's OOC here... Let me know what you think, and I can do my best to fix it. It is kind of a different situation for Elly to be in, so it was a little hard to guess his reactions.**

**Chronologically, these OC oneshots of mine go as follows: ****_Siren's Lure, Loaded Shotgun, Anyway, A Night of Indiscretion_****, and then this one, ****_Promises We Made_****. This arc is following the manga (therefore, it may contain mild spoilers) until roughly Retrace 59, where it will take a route into AU territory.**

**As always, I hope you enjoy the oneshot, and I always read reviews! ^_^**

**~Penelope**

* * *

It had almost been two weeks since Elliot had spoken to Nerys, and it was driving him mad.

He'd tried to block out what had happened between them. He'd thrown himself into his personal investigation of the Headhunter and the mysteries surrounding the murders that had once targeted only his family and had suddenly befell the members of a household out in the middle of nowhere. It made no sense! And so he drowned himself in those thoughts, pondering, researching. He was no Pandora agent, though, and he lacked access to any sort of records or files that would actually get him anywhere. And when he reached the end his latest lead, the thought of his white-haired lover waited for him. At the end of every hall of thought, around every corner, she leapt into his mind, invading his senses, threatening to crumble every towering theory he'd worked so hard to build.

He kept seeing her… and instead of lifting his spirits as it once had, it made him feel dirty. Corrupted. Ashamed. All because of one night of utter stupidity. He hated it.

He had to do something to get his mind off it all. And as he shrugged on his coat with Leo's help, he could only hope his choice would do the trick.

They'd already alluded his 'personal bodyguards'. Now, of all people, he, Elliot Nightray, was willingly going to Oz Vessalius for aid. After all, the kid seemed to be the center of every weird thing that was going on these days, he'd practically witnessed the last Headhunter incident, and he was on Pandora's side. Plus, where Oz Vessalius was, Gilbert was. And Gilbert worked for Pandora. Gilbert knew things.

What sort of a big brother was Gilbert anyway? He'd been a coward and fled after Claude and Ernest had been killed. But then his old master comes back and voila, he followed at Oz's heels like a demented puppy dog. That's all he really was, now; a dog. A mindless, well-trained puppy keyed to do what and only what its master said.

"Tch," Elliot scoffed, buttoning his gloves with more ferocity than was probably necessary.

Leo, as always, noticed. "Something wrong?"

"Gilbert."

"Ah."

Leo knew every complaint Elliot had about the man. Mostly because he had heard them all a hundred times over, and Elliot wasn't the least bit sorry. After all, Leo was in part his servant, and otherwise his best friend. It was in his job description to endure Elliot's countless rants and ravings. Besides, it wasn't as if he could go anywhere to escape them anyway.

"You have your sword?" Leo asked, not lingering on the subject.

Strapping the scabbard to his waist – he decided to forgo lugging around the violin case today – Elliot nodded. "Yes." He refrained from adding the usual 'I'm not an idiot'. Leo noticed, he was sure, but he didn't say anything.

"I'll get fetch a carriage." Leo moved for the door.

"No," Elliot said quickly, "the horses. Let's take the horses."

Leo blinked at him a moment, and Elliot could almost interpret that blank look for what it was supposed to be saying to him: _You only take the horses when you're in a hurry or need to think in clear air. I know what's really bugging you._

"Okay." The bespectacled boy then exited the suite, and his footsteps faded down the hallway until he could no longer hear them.

With a heavy sigh, Elliot wandered over to the full-length mirror that stood regally framed in a gold-encrusted frame beside his wardrobe. He didn't usually use it; he hated the idea that nobles spent so much time in front of their mirrors, perfecting their appearances and cementing their phony masks into place. Still, he had a thought, and it wouldn't leave him alone.

He'd thought of it often. Not lately, but since his older brothers met their untimely ends. And as he took in his reflection, the realization once again hit him with the same force and weight all over again.

He was going to be the next Nightray duke.

Yes, Gilbert had contracted Raven and legally was the oldest 'Nightray'. But not only had he forsaken the Nightray name by abandoning them, but unless there were no more blood relatives, he wouldn't become duke anyway. And Vincent, well… Bernard Nightray was far too intelligent than to let a man like Vincent take over the dukedom. And Vanessa was a woman. That left only one person to carry on the family nobility.

Him. Elliot Nightray. One day, a title would be added to his name, and he would be called Duke Elliot Nightray. He would be keeper of the Nightray key to the Abyss officially – he would do more with that sword than carry it around for show. He would wield it, it and all the power that stood dormant behind it.

Tilting his head at the image in the mirror, he took in the long black coat, the sword, stared into the stern blue eyes that always blinked back at him through the glass.

He wondered what Fred or Claude or Ernest would say of him now. They'd probably still treat him like the baby of the family. But what would they say when he wasn't around? Would they still call him bothersome but endearing? Or would they say that he had grown? That he had matured? That brutal experience had murdered once childlike innocence just as a blade had murdered them?

Would they still call him Shorty*? Or would they treat him like a man, like one of them? Perhaps they would spar, or go riding, or take trips into the city and make fun of the passersby.

What would they think of his lack of friends? His friendship – tentatively so-called – with Oz Vessalius?

What would they think of…

No. He wasn't going to think about her.

Narrowing his eyes, he glared hard at the long coat he wore.

First thing he would do as duke would be to break away from black as the family's traditional color. Honestly, what good did it do for their reputation and social standing if every Nightray family member went out in public looking as if dressed for a funeral?

He sighed and turned away from the mirror. Leo was probably ready with the horses by now. Long strides making his pace brisk, he headed out of his quarters and toward the nearest staircase. As he went, he took several deep breaths, pushing all thoughts from his mind save those that honed in on his objective.

Still. Those little trinkets he'd slipped into his coat pocket three days ago – three WHOLE days – decided to make a surprise appearance, and he groaned under his breath.

Of all things having to do with Nerys, that was the _last_ one he wanted to think about. It was too soon! They were too young! It was all wrong! He hadn't been in a right mind when he even contemplated that option. Why on earth had he held on to it?

"'Cause I'm an idiot, that's why…" he muttered under his breath as he descended the stairs and rounded the next right corner at a near run from the built-up momentum.

He ran into something solid but soft, that gave with the impact, and next thing he knew, he was sprawled on his face on the floor, once-folded clothes strewn over him and the person he'd run into, a basket shielding most of the incompetent maid from his view. With a low growl, he jumped to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at the servant.

"YOU IDIOT, WHAT KIND OF SERVANT ARE YOU!? WHY DON'T YOU WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!?" Any further ranting died in his throat when his cobalt gaze met an intense gold one.

Nerys Winterspell glared back up at him, but her cheeks had darkened with a blush that was quite flattering on her.

With an awkward clearing of his throat, he offered her a hand up. She frowned at it, and shook her head, pushing herself to her feet and ignoring his waiting hand.

"Tch" she scoffed. "You're going to yell at me and then expect me to let you help me up? How do these scenarios usually go for you?"

Looking back, Elliot would be rather pleased with how well he managed not to bite her head off. But her next comment was a little harder to ignore.

"One of these days, you're going to have to decide who you want to be, _young master_," she said, bending down to scoop all the clothes into the fallen basket. "A hot-headed, foul-mouthed, naïve little scion still clinging to the past while trying to act like you're not-"

"I AM NOT NAÏVE!" he insisted, waving his index finger in her face.

She straightened, hoisting up the filled basket, and continued talking, unfazed. "-or the deep, passionate, kind-hearted man you occasionally are, the one that knows exactly what he believes in and who he wants to be." Her lips pursed as she gave him a condescending once-over. "Because you certainly cannot be both. That just hurts people. And yourself."

She turned to walk away.

He wasn't about to let her.

"HEY!" He latched a hand around her arm, nearly making her drop the basket again, and yanked her around to face him. No doubt her fiery glare was mimicked on his own face.

"You think you're the only one who was effected by what happened? Huh?" He jerked her arm, but not hard.

She snarled up at him. "Let go of me."

"No! Do you honestly think I don't care!?"

"You've been avoiding me!"

He scowled. "Well, I didn't see you making any efforts to change that."

"Maybe I drew my own conclusions based on your reaction," she stated, lifting her chin defiantly.

"Oh, and what conclusions might those be?"

"That you're just a juvenile boy who's afraid of commitment and can't handle when he wounds his own pride." She said it with such confidence it made him want to flinch. But he didn't. Showing weakness wasn't exactly his forte.

"Afraid of commitment!?" he roared, and then clamped his mouth shut. He glanced to and fro, looking for any sneaking observers, before he pried the basket from her hands, much to her protest, and dragged her into the nearest servant's closet.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he whirled to face her.

"Afraid of commitment!?" he repeated in a harsh whisper. "Well, excuse me for having never slept with a woman. I didn't know it was normal to do so casually."

She huffed, clenching her small fists at her sides. "I didn't know it was so easy for you to get yourself drunk."

"Myself!?" he blurted, and forced himself to lower his voice again after the outburst. "You think I did that on purpose!? As I recall, you weren't in any better shape yourself!"

"I'm amazed you even recall anything."

"ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO BE THIS ARROGANT ABOUT IT!?"

"FINE!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, getting up in his face as she spat the words. "We were both idiots!"

"THEN WHY THE **** ARE WE ARGUING!?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

For a long, awkward moment, they just stood there, glaring at one another, each taking deep, calming breaths. Until, of course, Elliot could stand the miniscule distance no longer, and gently clasped her face between his gloved hands – pity, he really wanted to feel the softness of her ivory cheeks under his fingers right about now – and crashed his lips against hers.

Then their breaths were no longer calming.

By the time he managed to pry himself apart from her, his unruly hair had only worsened with her raking fingers, her pale face had turned that lovely shade of pink again, and by the heat along the bridge of his nose and over his ears, he could only guess he looked similar. With his arms loosely but firmly looped about her hips, he couldn't bring himself to stray too far from her face. He loved seeing her eyes this close; they were such a fascinating, bold color.

Then she began to giggle. Through her panting breaths, she lost her composure, and the giggling escalated into an all-out laughing fit. Worse still, he couldn't keep himself from laughing either, as the seriousness of the entire situation seemed to crack and crumble around them.

"We really are ridiculous," she managed through her snickering, rather conspiratorially, leaning close to rest her forehead against his.

"This isn't a foreshadowing of how the rest of our relationship is gonna end up, is it?" he asked with a mild grimace in all seriousness.

She giggled some more. "Oh, gosh, I hope not."

After a moment longer, he managed to silence his chuckles, and his smile was replaced by a frown. The air turned somber.

"…Do you really think I'm afraid of commitment?" he muttered, looking up at her with his head tilted down.

Her own expression grew serious, but she didn't make an attempt to step away or anything, so he supposed that was good for something. "I don't know… It's hard to tell sometimes. You haven't exactly committed to much in the past that I can go off of…"

"You haven't known me _that_ long."

She raised her eyebrows dryly. "I've worked here for two years. That's plenty of time to observe things."

His brow furrowed, and he really couldn't resist commenting on that. "You observed me?"

Her eyes widened and she blushed darker, slugging him in the arm. "S-Shut up… You were cute; what else can I say?" She still had yet to pull out of his arms, though.

Snickering, he then made himself serious again. "Seriously, though, in all that time, I would think you should know that I'm not afraid of anything."

A short, harsh laugh saturated with disbelief and skepticism escaped her, and she smirked at him. "On the contrary, Elliot Nightray, you are afraid of many things, and you've taught yourself to pretend like you aren't."

"Well, commitment ain't one of them, I promise you that. Look here." He dug around in his coat pocket, and pulled out one of the little baubles. "See this?"

The whites of her eyes, her suddenly slack jaw, and her soft gasp were enough to assure him that, yes, she saw it. He most certainly had her attention, and he couldn't believe he was about to do this.

"I think you should wear it," he plowed on matter-of-factly, closing his eyes and squaring his shoulders in what Leo liked to call his 'know-it-all' stance. "On your left hand. At this point, with the possibilities as they are, it's really pointless to keep anything a secret anymore. Plus, with me reaching courting age, I don't want Father and Vanessa setting me up with anybody, especially here. I have no intention of becoming like Vincent."

Her expression remained the same, and her eyes never left the ring in his hand.

Elliot took her left hand in his. "It belonged to my mother… She stopped wearing it after Claude and Ernest died, and she just… forgot about it."

"Tha-That's… I-I can't take y-your mother's wedding ring…"

"It was her engagement ring. It's been in the family for generations; one of us would have ended up with it anyway, and since it looks like I'll be the first, I figured I had a right."

"…What about yours?"

"I'll use my father's engagement ring. I'm fairly sure he's forgotten it exists. I'm sure he won't miss it."

"…Do you usually assume things like that?"

"DON'T RUIN THE MOMENT!" He sighed, reining in his composure. Really, this was difficult enough for him as it was. Outside was his usual arrogant façade, but underneath it, he was a wreck. _What the heck am I saying!? What do I do? WHAT DO I DO? WHAT WILL SHE SAY? What if I did it wrong? Is this how they usually do it? I DON'T THINK SO! UH OH! I'M DOING IT ALL WRONG! LEO, WHY AREN' T YOU HERE HELPING ME? I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING! _

He quietly slipped the ring onto her ring finger. Then he clasped her delicate hand in his and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. Glancing up, he assessed her expression, which still could be accurately described as shell-shocked.

"Well?" he prompted quietly. "What do you say?"

She blinked at him slowly, blankly. "…Are… Are you… asking me to marry you?"

Oh, he just wanted to die. Somewhere, glass shattered, he swore, but she didn't seem to react, so it must've been his imagination. Or maybe it was one of the glass walls around his heart that was his pride. He swallowed his indignation and gave her a dry stare. "I would have thought this to be obvious."

She blinked at him. He could practically see an ellipse repeating itself over her head.

"…Say it."

His turn to blink, and look confused. "Eh?"

"Say it. I want to hear it."

He sighed heavily. "Nerys-"

"Go traditional. Gosh, haven't you ever proposed to somebody before?"

He saw the mischief playing at her lips, and snorted even as he sunk to one knee. "Ah, no. You should hope not."

_I'M GOING TO DO THIS. I'M SERIOUSLY GOING TO DO THIS. I'M REALLY, _REALLY _GOING TO DO THIS._

After another slow breath, he actually managed to start speaking. "Nerys Winterspell…" _Cliché and sappy or short and sweet? …Are those my only options? Come on, Nightray, THINK!_ "I… am in love with you. And I seriously hope that the feeling is mutual, because otherwise, I think I'm doomed."

She chuckled, and he didn't know whether to be emboldened or anxious.

"U-Uh…" He coughed to cover up his stuttering. "I-I want… I want to spend…" _Gosh dang it, why is this so hard to say!? Oh, right, because I'm ASKING THIS GORGEOUS WOMAN TO LET ME GIVE THE REST OF MY LIFE TO HER AND BASICALLY HANDING HER MY HEART ON A PLATTER TO DO WITH AS SHE PLEASES AND HOPING SHE WANTS THE SAME AND WHAT IF SHE DOESN'T? AUGH! Why do I never plan these things out? Just let me shrivel up and die_… "…t-the rest of my life with you. Would you do me… t-the great honor of becoming…" He was actually about to say it. "…my bride – Madame Nerys… Nightray?"

She laughed out loud, but was nodding profusely. "Yes, of course I will, Elliot."

"W-Why are you laughing at me!?" he sputtered. But he couldn't let go of her hand. "That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life!"

At that, she could only laugh harder. "Because Elliot Nightray kneeling to anybody and stuttering over his words is a comical and beautiful sight."

"HEY!"

She dragged him up by his hands. "Oh, get up here so I can kiss you again."

And so he did. And he quickly forgot what he was going to complain about.

Then he remembered Leo, and what he had been planning to do today. With much regret, he pulled away from Nerys, eyes wide.

"C***. I almost forgot, Leo's waiting outside with the horses."

"The horses?" she frowned. "What for?"

"I have to… take care of something."

"Elliot…" she warned, putting her hands on her hips.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Bear with me. I promise, I won't be gone long. There's just… some things I need to find out."

"You know, your father and sister have a good reason to keep you indoors. The Headhunter-"

"That's exactly why I have to go." He clenched his jaw and stood taller. "I can't just sit here and do nothing."

For a long time, Nerys studied him with her hands propped on her hips like that, looking so dang attractive and serious and concerned and gosh he loved this woman. He shook his head to clear it just as she sighed.

"Be careful," she said. She reached up to tame his sandy locks with a concentrated look on her face. Once she was finished, she stopped him before he could turn to the door behind him. "Wait… Put on your ring. I want to see it."

Fishing in his coat pocket again, he pulled out the slim, simpler gold band that his father had once worn before he married his mother. A slight smile tugging at his mouth, he slipped it onto his left ring finger, right over the glove. It actually fit relatively well. A bit loose, but that would do for now.

Nerys beamed, containing a girlish squeal that caught him off guard. Well, he had never heard her make _that _noise before. "Thank you! Okay. You can go now."

Snorting again, Elliot turned to the door. "Right." He stared at the knob, and huffed. "Let's try to do this nonchalantly, and pray nobody's walking by."

He opened the door.

And came face-to-face with Leo. Who was smirking.

Before Elliot could even sputter out an explanation as Nerys exited on his heels and froze as well at the sight of the noire servant, Leo's eyes instantly darted to their hands.

He _knew_. The conniving little bugger _knew_.

"Went well, then?"

"Oh… shut up." Elliot felt his face heating up again.

Leo just grinned.

Nerys took the initiative and pressed a kiss to Elliot's cheek. Right there! In front of Leo! Ugh, his face felt so hot; his collar was stifling him and he wanted nothing more than to yank off that cursed cravat this instant. Outwardly, he just blushed even more, and Leo's grin grew.

"Very well, Leo. Very, very well. I hope you have nothing against me, because I might just stick around for a while." She sauntered over to her fallen laundry basket to start picking up the clothes again.

"I actually like having you around." Leo nudged Elliot in the arm, and without another word, turned and started walking the other way, toward the front of the manor.

Elliot followed rather dumbly, clenching his left fist over and over and over again, feeling the strange new weight of the ring on his finger. It felt different… but… good.

"You know your family's not gonna be happy about this," Leo spoke up as they neared the front doors.

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Who cares what they think anymore? I'm getting married."

At this Leo actually laughed, and slapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, but… that just sounds so strange, coming from you."

Blinking slowly, Elliot mulled over the words he'd just spoken.

_I'm getting married._

I'm _getting married._

_I'm getting _married_._

_MARRIED._

_Adjective. United in marriage. Being in the state of matrimony._

_I'M GETTING MARRIED_.

"I'm getting married," he said slowly, a grin playing at his mouth.

Then it hit him. Like a train. Made of rock and iron, loaded with bricks, going one hundred miles an hour. His breath quickened, and he felt the color drain from his face. Dread swelled into his voice.

"I'm getting married. Oh ****. Oh ****, Leo, I'm getting married."

Leo shook his head as he opened the door, but didn't say a word.

* * *

Elliot's cheek still stung where Vanessa had slapped him_**_. But that wasn't what was really weighing on his mind.

Isla Yura. That ugly, no-good, girly excuse for a snake, the one that poisoned his mother's mind, took away the caring nurturer that had raised him and his brothers and replaced her with a mindless extremist. He'd been here. Right here in his house. Wearing that cursed symbol. How coincidental. And he was _smiling_.

The more he thought about him, the more he hated him.

But that wasn't what was really weighing on his mind either. Yes, that was a big thing, and it fought for dominance, but…

At the moment, all he could imagine was Vanessa's furious gaze boring holes into his face. Only once did she glance away until Yura intervened. She had glanced ever so slightly down as he reached up to rub his cheek after she slapped him. With his left hand. He'd forgotten to take the ring off.

What if she saw? What if she knew? He didn't necessarily care what she thought of him, but… if she found out that it was Nerys, what then? What would Vanessa do to her?

He was making headway in his investigation of the Headhunter, as well as making efforts to repair severed ties between the Nightrays and the Vessalius', and he now wore a ring that signified that he was promised to the woman he loved. The last thing he needed right now was his sister meddling in his affairs.

But he knew that wouldn't stop her. And that honestly worried him.

Suddenly, he wasn't so sure about things anymore.

* * *

_*It's a small headcanon of mine that Elliot calls Oz 'Shorty' because it was something his older brothers called him, whether they were teasing or using it affectionately._

_**Referring to the final scene of Retrace 47 – Unbirthday._


End file.
